52nd Hunger Games
by TammerTime
Summary: Rated T for the hunger games.
1. The Reaping

Tribute List

Emerald Shrinn and Glint Hune- D1  
Artina Julant and Flint Maelart - D2  
Sprilna Tarral and Garn Ponil - D3  
Moara Tridel and Dairpil Kilin - D4  
Fennia Teslon and Sleat Bolth - D5  
Locomi Rell and Clunar Terr - D6  
Valena Oaksmith and Sartri Wrenwood-D7  
Thara Spinlaw and Patch Tworn-D8  
Flaxia Greensil and Barr Amlera-D9  
Leathana Furrin Cattan Swathel-D10  
Orcita Flit and Slint Walnull-D11  
Auria Caldul and Gaius Caldul-D12

**A/N: This is my first fic, so please don't be too harsh! Reviews are always appreciated ****.**

I wake up before the crack of dawn. School and working at the power plant had taught me that sleep was the least useful thing I could do. Looking around in the darkness, I see my father's bed already empty, my brother lying alone under the threadbare blanket. I try to wake him up for school, but, as usual it's no hope. I try not to think of the implications of today. Reaping Day. I force myself not to think of the 21 slips neatly printed with "Fennia Teslon," knowing that the tessera was necessary. Trying to convince myself that the odds were in my favor as I silently slipped into the small kitchen where my father was. He was looking down at the little round loaves of hard tessera grain and sighing, looking at me above the cracked glasses that had slid down his nose. "Morning." he said, in the raspy voice that comes from not speaking for long periods of time. "….and good luck today."

"Thanks, dad." is all I can think to say- knowing that I need the luck.

I disregard the small rolls and head directly towards the little battery on the counter. I look at the little machine that I've hooked it up to, and watch as the little fish in the tank twitch as Mal, my cat, watches them hungrily. It was a school project- we had to demonstrate a good grasp of electricity and how it affects the body. It seemed that nearly everything in school was about power, how to make it, transport it, store it. I'd gotten my first perfect grade on this, and kept the twitching fish forever, from time to time replacing them- though never in front of my brother. Carefully detaching the battery, I see the small guppies swim around jerkily, hoping that my brother isn't awake yet. I never did anything…questionable in front of him. He was innocent, and needed to be kept that way. Only 11, I told him that he couldn't take out any tesserae for the coming year. I would just work more. Exposing him to the real world would be shattering. And he, at least, would remain whole.

Whole. The word brings back flashes of bad memories. Of Sal. He didn't stand a chance, but it was only after his death that I was truly scared at the Reaping. He was not whole in the Games. He went insane, ravaging any living thing in his path. He was put down by the Gamemakers. I wouldn't let that happen to me if I was picked. I swore that to him.

My brooding was interrupted by the sound of a loud thud and an "I'm okay!" My brother had finally woken up. He stumbles, still half asleep, into the kitchen and, unlike me, starts to shovel food in his face. He tears through three rolls and neither I nor my dad have the heart to tell him that what's on the table is all we have. He finishes and looks up at me, smiling happily with water in his mouth. I smile back and force myself to eat before I go outside to work. I carefully split a roll in half and nibble on it as my dad takes the remaining half. As soon as I'm done, I run outside to the rain slicked ground. The chemicals from the plant make the water filled with salt. The perfect conductor. I took the battery and removed some wires from my pocket- I had "borrowed" them from the electrical repair kit that nobody dared go near. I hook up the bare, frayed ends of the wires to the battery's neat nodes and place it gently on the floor. The mice that inhabit all of District 5's slums squeal and run out of the house, and I smile, knowing that they won't be back for a week, at least. Though of course, they will always find a way in. Always.

My father is gone when I come back inside, and I know that I will have to bring Merkuul to the reaping again. My father is never home. I think he tries to keep himself distracted. When my mother died, he plunged into his work, not daring to let himself get hurt again. I rush upstairs to get out my reaping clothes- my mother's dress, hemmed to fit. Coming downstairs, Merkuul has left by himself. Dammit. I'll never find him now. I trudge off to the square where there are a battalion of Peacekeepers and reporters; perched on rooftops, the stage- anywhere they could get coverage. I walk over to one of my two friends- Milu, who doesn't do well in school because she knows that she'll get a job at the plant anyway. Milu and I are incredibly different, yet we are both outcasts. So what choice did we have? As our escort, Lanni Tarr, mounts the stage in heels so high it makes her look like she's climbing a mountain, Milu begins whispering her speech in unison with her. There are no changes in hers or the mayor's speech, unless there's a victor- and there hasn't been one from here in over a decade. Tribute equals "I'm so sorry…" here. We say, quietly, in sync, "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." It's like an instinct- and it isn't comforting.

She teeters over to the large glass bowl and trips on her way there. Eager to get away from it, she plucks the first name she can reach and walks carefully over to the microphone. She says a name but I don't register anything but my brothers scream and I whip around, half expecting it to be him. That when I realize it. It's not him. It's me.


	2. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

**A/N: Alright, this is a really short chapter. Sorry, I'll be sure to update soon!**

I walk to the stage quickly, because the more I am stared at, the more I know that there are only four people who can claim to be sad in the crowd. I don't let myself linger and use the techniques learned with years of being thought of as crazy to fight back the tears and walk onstage like I'm going into battle. "Any volunteers?" Lanni says, though I know that there won't be any. Nobody will die for the mad girl. When she, as usual, is met only by an awkward smattering of coughs, she walks over towards the bowl with the boys names. "Sleat Bolth!" a large, 17 year old boy lumbers towards the stage, and says "I reject all volunteers," confident that somebody would volunteer for him. Lucky bastard. It hits me just how angry I am. My life up to now has been dictated by everyone else. Keeping my brother safe, keeping my father happy, keeping myself from the pain of the taunts that constantly fire at me. "Fennia the Freak." I will not give the Capitol the satisfaction of seeing me cry, like I know others before me have. So I force myself to smile and shake his hand, knowing that the Games is my ticket out of here- I have a 1/24 chance of never being called insane again, and I'll take it.

We're herded by peacekeepers into the rooms behind the Justice building, and as soon as I sit down my father comes bursting in and hugs me. "I love you, I love you, I love you." I don't have the will to say anything. I don't care though; I just hug him back and hope it won't be the last time. He and Merkuul will come with me to live in the Capitol if I win. I let go of him and say that I love him; too, because it's the only thing I know to tell him. "Merkuul can't take out tesserae, you can live off of my savings, sell everything I have. Don't waste any money on…me." Before he can respond, a Peace keeper orders him out of the room, but there's nothing left to say. He didn't bring Merkuul, and I'm glad. There is, at least, on thing that I have done in my life. Nobody can say that I hurt Merkuul's innocence.

I spend the rest of my time thinking about my mother. It's been five years and somehow it still stings. It was a disease- a disease that ravaged her. The smoke from the sector of the plant where she worked got to her lungs and we couldn't afford even the slipshod apothecaries that hung around near the hospital, selling their "herbs". So we just…let her go. And I have never regretted not doing something more in my life, especially now.

This is complete and utter crap. I will die, and for what? Capitolites entertainment. I make a silent swear to myself that I wouldn't die. If I wouldn't die for my mother, I wouldn't die for this.


	3. Of Letters and Train Rides

Fanfiction Chapter 3

Nobody else came. I wasn't allowed to leave, so I wrote a letter to the next unlucky girl herded into this room.

_Dear…Tribute._

_ My name is Fennia Teslon. I am a tribute in the 52__nd__ Hunger Games. I am scared. If all goes according to plan, you will be calling me "Victor". I do not want to be the next name written on the tribute mausoleum. You probably won't know me if I don't win, or you'll know me as "that crazy girl who was reaped". I'm hoping to change that. Carry on my legacy, or at least be the first in __fourteen__ fifteen years to win. Please. _

_-FT_

I knew that it wasn't very comforting, but I needed to vent out all of the anger inside of me or I would cry- and nobody sponsored a crying tribute. If you bawled, the only thing people would be betting on about you would be how many hours you'd live- nobody bothered with days. I looked at myself in the dusty mirror and scraped back my hair, tracing my hairline with calloused, bitten fingertips. I looked so out of place in this luxury. This was the room of rich people who never worked for food, who didn't need to work for anything. I spent the rest of my hour sitting and plotting on the silken couch and hating its clean, new feeling, staring at the thick velvet draperies, trying to will them to set on fire. I waited to be released from this comfortable prison, trying to keep myself from screaming at the peacekeepers to let me go- one of them would talk to the ever-present bookies and just like that, any meager money I could rustle up would vanish.

With 5 minutes left, I walked around the room, pacing back and forth. I realized that I didn't have a token, and I looked for something to remind me of home when I remembered that I still had the key to my locker in the power plant was still in my pocket. I kept my precious things there- the one photograph of my mother, father, and brother. The last note Sal had passed to me before he was reaped. The various wires, bulbs, and batteries that I'd collected over the years. It would remind me that I still needed to be there to unlock it.

Sal. The name pulls bad memories from a place I hadn't wandered into in exactly 2 years and one month. The day he died. He was attacked by ravenous golden squirrels, completely unarmed. He didn't stand a chance. The only thing left to bury were the bones. A boy from District 12 won that year, and I swore to kill anyone from there to honor him.

"Time to leave, hon." The voice of a bored Peacekeeper reaches through the door. There are no theatrics, no trying to stay in the room or run towards the exit and hide. But thinking of Sal brought out an anger in me, and I can feel my cheeks redden and my heart pound. I bite back tears and force my face into the sort of grim determination a proper tribute should have- the face of a contender, not somebody just trying to stay alive long enough not to die at the hands of a child.

I spy the other tribute as I walk out the door, flanked by his friends. They yell at him and he has to be pulled away, frog marched out the door and towards the trains. As soon as we're out of the Justice Building, he grimaces at the light and I shove him behind me, hiding him as I flash a smile at the cameras. I hate this stupid game, trying to act tough and pretend this is a big celebration, but what can I do? I try to give my face the dumb, cocky look that so many of the careers plaster on their faces and hurry onto the train, leaving Sleat to the vultures of the camera crews. I almost stumble out of the train in shock. There is so much in this one car, it's tasteless. Crystal chandeliers, gold-plated mahogany tables- even the forks and knives were tipped with gems. Not ten yards from the doors, people are starving, yet one of the silver cups on the shelf could feed a family for a month. But I trip back onto my fellow tribute, and he pushes me back into the train with a heave.

"Well now, what do we have here?" A squeaky, overposh voice comes from the tiger-skin sofa- a voice that I'd recognize anywhere. "Hello, Lanni." "Hello, Miss…Teslam?" "Teslon. Fennia Jeckil Teslon." I reply. Before Lanni has another chance to open her mouth, our mentors enter the room ungracefully. They look like two opposites- one bony, sallow-eyed, distant man with a tuft of hair on his head and a scruffy beard, and a mostly plastic, stick-thin woman with large lips and nails filed down to sharp points. She spoke first, after looking us over like cattle. "Ten days for the boy, a week for the girl." All the man said was "I need my morphling." He scurried backwards into his room and waited for the servants that waited silently in the corners of the room to bring him drugs. I wasn't happy that the blonde, surgically altered victor whose name I couldn't remember thought I would be the first to go in the arena, because I would be out of the arena in a casket if the morphling was in charge of me. As I expected, she patted the seat next to her, causing small holes in the seat where her fingernails touched the silk cover, and Sleat sat down as quickly as he could, as though he were magnetically attracted to her. As soon as I sat down on the other side of the table, someone rushed to give me a plate of biscuits and a glass of watery, bitter liquid that was murky and brown, with milk and sugar in a matching set of a bowl and miniature pitcher. I didn't bother with the dark liquid and sugar and drank the milk instead, much to the annoyance of my escort and mentor. They had nearly identical sniffs- probably due to their nearly identical noses. I know that I should be humble and simpering just about now, but I can't help but smile at their disgust.

Looking away from me until I had put the little jug down, the victor next to me introduced herself as "Sanna Drell, victor of the 38th Games." I suppose that's the final confirmation that killing children is your only claim to fame, I thought. "Teslon." I say, before the Sleat has a chance to. "My _dear_, can't you wait a bit? You look half starved; eat a little more before interrupting." "Sleat Bolth" he says. "Fennia Teslon." I persist. She finally gives in, saying,"Well then, Fen, what can you do?" "Fennia. And I shovel coal at the plant, so I've got arm strength and luck. She scoffs and turns towards the dark haired, stocky boy sitting across from me. "Tell me you can do something other than dig your own grave." "I wrestle a little." "Bring your mentor his morphling, Fennia." Damn. I walk into the dimly lit room and stare at the distant man as he draws short lines and spirals onto a piece of paper. When he finally stops, I look at the shred, after seeing it is from a medical supply company and nearly toss it away before I see the picture on it – Sanna's face, screaming in triumph, bloody and beaten. I can't think of anything to say, so I wait until he speaks himself "I don't want you looking like that. There is no glory in this game. I want you to come out of this alive, but you have to promise me you won't end up like her." "I swear on my friend's grave." He drifts off again, leaving me to my thoughts again for hours. Finally he says "Sal. I remember them all, you know. He mentioned you. 'Tell Fennia she can have my locker key.' I knew he'd never win." I leave then, knowing that he'd pull himself together. And if not- well, Merkuul would have two lockers to open.


	4. A New World

**A/N: So sorry for not updating sooner! School has been crazy these last few weeks. Love ya!**

I spend my first night on the train in a bedroom larger than my house. The shower has hot water, and I nearly jump backwards at the heat. The wardrobe could outfit a family and all of it is tailored perfectly to me. I slip into a nightgown and fall asleep nearly instantly- looking at the clock, it's nearly midnight.

The next morning, I wake up slowly and look in the wardrobe. There's a blue button down shirt that feels soft, like the microfiber static pads we use at home, and stiff khaki pants that remind me of the standard-issue plant uniform. I wear them, and they feel like home. I leave the bedroom, heading towards the main room. To my surprise, my mentor is at the table. He looks haggard and scruffy, but it's clear he's made an effort- the dirty pajamas are gone, replaced with a dress shirt and corduroys. "I'll stay civil if you do." He says, nodding pointedly towards the corridor where he and Sanna sleep. An Avox sets yet another large tray of delicious food in front of me as Sanna leaves her room. As she walks down the corridor, he and I make an unspoken pact- I'll be his perfect tribute, charming and deadly, and in return he'll say away from the morphling and be a real mentor. It's not exactly the fairest of trades, but it's the best that I'll get. Sanna sits down and looks at me in disgust. "Well, looks like you haven't found out about the hair brushes yet. I'd recommend taking a look, love." Baltt, as the emaciated, but bright-eyed mentor introduces himself, rolls his eyes not-so-subtly. "The alcohol on your breath isn't the best scent either, Sanna." I retort. I don't know what alcohol smells like- but the three missing liquor bottles can tell me everything. She shrinks away, and I can't help but smirk a bit.

Baltt is eating like a fat, happy king already, and I begin to look at the food in front of me. The bitter liquid from yesterday, a sweet-smelling, lighter brown drink, and enough pastries, eggs, and bacon to feed most of District 5. It's all delicious, and after I taste the drink- "Hot chocolate," I'm informed, I decide that that's good, as well. I stuff myself, half because I've never seen this much food and half because I love the look on Sanna's face as I abandon the fork and use the toast to pick up the eggs and bacon. Baltt is laughing, hard, as he pushes a cup of yet another hot beverage towards me. "Tea!" He shouts. "Best thing in the world." At that moment, Sleat comes out of his bedroom, looking very sleepy still. "Morning." He says, grumpy.

"Well, eat up. Once you're in the capitol, you're going to be on a strict diet. You need to outshine her- not that it's that hard." Sanna says, lovely as always. He follows her orders and the rest of breakfast passes in an uncomfortable silence, our escort nowhere to be seen. Finally, Baltt finishes and I'm free to go.

"I hear you like chemistry." Sleat says. "I do!" He might be the only person who understands science in this place. "So do I." "Ooh, what do you do? I use it in my experiments sometimes, though I admit that I use electricity more than anything." "Oh, I don't experiment. I've made a very thorough study of human chemistry, though." Before I can respond, though, he shoves past me and starts hurriedly whispering to Sanna. I can only make out the word "strategy" before they go away to her room.

I want to go back inside my room, but Baltt motions for me to come to the table. "Why don't you join me? There's a lovely view from this window and I have more tea. Or you could stay in your dark room, alone. Whatever makes you happy." I sit down- there's no way that was a request- and listen to him. "Listen, I know that you probably don't think much of Capitol citizens. But I'm going to be honest with you, Sanna is vicious. She will tear you down to make Sleat shine. So you have to win them over. Fight for their love. No matter how vapid you think they are, pretend that they're brilliant. Trust me- the only way you'll win is by sponsors." I nod. I didn't want to be humble when faced with these people, but Baltt gave me a withering look with an intensity that scared me. Just for a moment, he lost his happy-uncle persona and became the ruthless victor he once was.

The rest of the day I was forced to spend in my bedroom, trying to ignore all of the times Sleat knocks on my door. "I just want to talk to someone!" He shouts. "Well, I don't!" He knocks three more times and finally he kicks my door in. "Come on, you really want to be alone?" he says, in an oversweet voice. "No! Get out! I would have thought that the locked door would have gotten the message across, but apparently not." I realize too late that he's my only friend here- a friend that I've just lost. "I'm sorry." I say, hoping to make amends. "I just- I need to be alone for a while, you know? Let this all sink in." "Maybe I could help with that?" he says, still persistent. "You know, you would love to have me here. I'm a great talker." Yeah, I'm sure you are. Just what I don't need, someone to make small talk with. I bet he doesn't even know a lot about chemistry. "No, I'm **really, really** fine." I say, trying once again to get him to leave. "You know it too?" He replies, finally leaving me to my thoughts. I think of home, of the little house with the empty bed. Of Merkuul and Dad, and how they would be without the little money I made. I can only hope that they'll get my tesserae. I wonder if Dad knows how to shock all of the rats out of the house. I don't move at all until Lanni, who said she was "Out." When I asked where she was for the first half of the day, said it was time for dinner. I don't know why she didn't call me to lunch until I remember the "conversation" that Sleat and I had. He must have convinced them not to remind me. I was odd that I was grateful for that. I needed to think, and I couldn't think around him. He was too loud, too…too there for me to concentrate. I didn't know why, but he always absorbed all the attention in a room. He demanded to be looked at, to be heard. I almost didn't go to dinner, but Lanni sounded like she was about to break a knuckle pounding on the door, and her voice came through the door like the wind that whistled underneath it. Grudgingly, I got out of the bed and into the hall.

When I get to the table, I'm shocked. I almost want to run away, away from the luxury that I know I am not supposed to see, to experience. But hell, I'm dying in a few weeks, so I figure that I might as well do what I can to make them good ones. I approach the table, which is filled with soups and meats and bread it's wealth that I've never seen before, and I lapse into the humble girl Baltt wants me to be, amazed at the capitol. But that all fades when I think of the workers who made this. Of how many people nearly died just so I could eat. Suddenly I don't have any appetite at all. I take a roll- one that reminds me of the kind we make at home- and go back to my room. They can all eat the food laid out in front of them, but I refuse to throw away all of my life for a steak.

I go to sleep again, not bothering to change my clothes. When I wake up, the spires of the capitol come up to meet us. I scramble to get myself ready- I can't look like this if I want to get sponsored. So I pick up the first dress I see- a black and silver monstrosity- and step on the pad that instantly detangles my hair, leaving the black curls perfect. As the train slows down, I can see the reporters waiting even though it's only nine in the morning. Looking out at the sea of color, a city all metal and glass and gaudy, bright building that look nothing like home, I step out of the train and into the sea of people. I am stunned by the lights and yet acutely aware of everything around me, smiling and waving and trying to leave as fast as I can. And in that stressful moment, I feel like I'm flying away from this world and into a world of barbarians and lunatics- yet somehow, I still feel happy.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!**


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